Holly Hunter in a cowboy hat and tank top shopping for groceries in a Georgia college town wasn’t something I knew I needed to see until I saw it. Katherine Diekmann’s Strange Weather is a fairly simple melodrama, and one that could use a few reminders that it is better to show not tell. But as a showcase it’s a role that would fuel actors’ dreams. It’s the type of rich, nuanced, regional American indie that flourished in the 1990s (does anyone remember Peter Fonda in Ulee’s Gold?), and while some may consider it a little out of date, I prefer to take the more optimistic view and say it’s the continuation of a classic style.
Darcy Baylor (Hunter) is a no-nonsense gal who gardens at night during the hot months and hangs a transistor radio from her truck’s dashboard. She works as an administrative assistant at the college and has lively, literate conversations with her two best pals, an interracial lesbian couple. If nothing else, Strange Weather deserves huzzahs for showing that – gasp! – there are more than just angry Christian zealots, greedy conservatives or toothless rednecks in the American south. (Even though Obama got trounced in Georgia in 2012, t1.8 million people voted for him.)
Darcy remains haunted by the death of her son Walker, who killed himself seven years before just as he was getting his masters in business. Some days his memory pops up more than others, she remarks during one night, and thanks to a number of story contrivances she learns about one of Walker’s old friends, Mark. Turns out he’s a made a fortune in New Orleans running a chain of family restaurants (make-your-own hot dogs) which was actually Walker’s idea. Not only that, Walker’s business plan was rooted in happier memories from his childhood with Darcy.
This leads to snooping around and interviewing Walker’s old friends, until she decides without really telling her boss that she must drive to New Orleans to confront this thief. Joining her is her chum Byrd (Carrie Coon) and, in her purse, the gun that her son used to kill himself.
It’s a road-trip movie, so that means stopping in Mississippi to see old friends, and even settle some scores. The scene work – almost all women – is strong, with characters that feel lived-in and typically underrepresented on screen. The dialogue, unfortunately, maintains a fierce aversion to subtlety. There’s a lot of expressing exactly what the individual is thinking, to the point of even saying “I feel alive” to absolutely no one when they achieve a personal triumph.
A running joke among Darcy’s friends (including an on-again, off-again beau played with great sympathy by Kim Coates) is that she’s got no clue what she’s going to do once she actually meets the CEO of The Dawg House. When she finally gets to his blandly decorated office suite, Strange Weather suddenly switches gears from a shaggy indie to a cracking, edge-of-seat-drama. Most of this movie, while well played, feels comfortable and familiar. But this showdown (and props are also in order to Hunter’s scene partner Shane Jacobson) had me completely on edge. As individual sequences are concerned, it’s actually one of the most tense and emotional I’ve seen all year.
Unfortunately, the air then fizzles with an unnecessary monologue (while burying bloody clothes that have stayed in a bag marked “evidence” for seven years) but Hunter is enough of a pro to make it work. Diekmann’s restrained shooting style and evocative incorporation of solo electric guitar on the soundtrack goes a long way to pave over a choppy screenplay. Strange Weather is a flashback to indies from a time where you’d root for them just for existing, and if anyone deserves that kind of break it’s a woman like Darcy Baylor.
